


Island Life

by Tallulah_Rasa



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-typical peril, Friendship, Happy Ending, Injury, Season/Series 07
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-15 11:05:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2226741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tallulah_Rasa/pseuds/Tallulah_Rasa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daniel's descended, and Jack's angry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Island Life

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2003.
> 
> A bit of warning, just to be on the safe side: mentions of blood, puking, and concussion, though no one is critically or permanently injured.

"This is the stupidest idea, ever," Jack says, for the tenth or eleventh time.

It's a beautiful day on P3-whatever. The sky is a bright and brilliant purple. The ocean is a bright and brilliant turquoise. The flowers massed everywhere are a bright and brilliant yellow. The hovercraft they're assembling gleams in the sun.

"Oh, I don't know," Daniel says. They've had this conversation often, lately. His attention is mainly on the wires in front of him; Jack hopes he remembers that blue has to be linked to green, and not to white. "Stupider than making friends with an Unas? Stupider than impersonating a human slave at a meeting of Goa'uld system lords?"

"Your memory is returning well, Daniel Jackson," Teal'c says. He might be smiling. Carter sighs.

Daniel grins at her. "Stupider than the time I said the potato salad hadn't been out in the sun _that_ long, and was probably perfectly okay to eat?"

At that Carter laughs, though the memory can't be a particularly happy one.

"Geez, Daniel," Jack says, "There are some memories I'd think you'd rather forget."

There's a brief silence then, while Jack mentally kicks first himself, and then Daniel. Carter breathes in a little too hard.

"You'd think," Daniel agrees easily. He is still the peacemaker, still willing to venture into the heart of the war zone. "Though I'm kind of glad I remember calling Maybourne a--"

"Okay, okay. Point taken," Jack says. He doesn't want to be having this conversation. He doesn't want to be on this mission. "The Ascended could have thought some things through better, that's all I'm saying."

"No deposit, no return," Daniel murmurs, or at least that's what Jack hears. Then Daniel puts down his wires and turns to Jack. "The Ascended don't have all the answers," he says. "And neither do we. That's why this mission is a good idea."

Jack sighs theatrically and leans in to tighten a bolt. "So you've been saying, Daniel. And saying. But--"

"Daniel's right, Sir," Carter breaks in. "How life and culture evolve on isolated land masses is a subject that's fascinated people for hundreds of years."

"People?" Jack repeats, one eyebrow raised.

"Scientists," Carter admits. "But Sir, this is a unique opportunity. The land mass we're standing on has an array of fauna and flora we've never seen before, and no discernable inhabitants. The island the UAV found off the coast is only fifteen kilometers away, but seems to have some totally different forms of wildlife and vegetation--"

"And there are ruins there, though no sign of people," Daniel breaks in, with some of his old enthusiasm.

"Right," Carter finishes. "The riddles of evolution, of how environment affects life, of how random occurrences determine the course of natural development -- why the answers may be right here, Colonel, not just for _this_ planet, but for life everywhere."

"And this means something to me because--?"

Carter falters for only a minute. "Well, look at the medical implications. In Polynesia, for instance, there's an island where a vast proportion of the population is totally colorblind, and no one knows why. I mean, it's a closed society, so it's a genetically based condition, sure, but whether the original mutation was an adaptation or environmentally caused--"

Daniel looks up from checking the underside of the hovercraft. "It has implications for the evolution of hockey," he says, with a perfectly straight face. "And, possibly, for brewing better beer."

Three pairs of eyes turn to Daniel. "Oh. Well, then," Jack says. He's not sure if he's being kidded, or if this is knowledge brought from on high by Cosmic Daniel, so he goes back to testing the controls.

"I do not see the connection, Daniel Jackson," Teal'c says, and it's clear he doesn't, though he's trying. Jack wishes he would let it drop.

"Everything influences everything," Daniel says, as Carter helps him with the final check of the outside of the craft. "We never know how any one thing affects another -- though maybe here, now, we'll get a clue."

It sounds good, Jack thinks, but it's really about the ruins. That's all Daniel cares about. That's all Daniel has ever cared about, rocks and dirt. He has a flash of the Robert Palmer girls, and "Gonna have to face it, you're addicted to mud," and he wonders what Mary Steenburgen would look like with her hair slicked back. When he's tuned in again, Teal'c's announcing that the little hovercraft is finished.

"It's good to go, Sir," Carter agrees. "Colonel, you and Daniel should reach the island by heading due east. We don't know the conditions there, of course, but our radios _should_ be able to carry. If we don't hear from you, though, we won't worry until you're overdue. We'll expect you back here in ten hours. That should give us time to finish the survey here, while you're making an initial assessment of the island."

"Got it, Carter," Jack says. "We've been through this."

Carter smiles, a little embarrassed. She's still not used to Daniel being back, still wants to hold his hand when he crosses the street. "I guess I'm a little worried about this," she admits. "I know the UAV showed nothing that could be a problem, but the 'craft--"

"Is going to be fine, Carter." Hell, he's piloted Goa'uld ships, he can handle a little hovercraft, for crying out loud. And they have supplies up the wazoo, for every possible contingency. The only problem he can see is that he's going to spend ten hours alone with Daniel, and Daniel's getting on his nerves. But he's the CO, and he can get past that. "We won't have any problems," he says.

"Well, if you do, we might not know for ten hours," Carter frets. "But you have your survival gear, and--"

"We'll be fine, Sam," Daniel assures her. Jack almost laughs. Daniel's never been any good at seeing danger. Maybe it has something to do with his glasses. Or maybe he sees it and just doesn't care.

"If necessary, can you pilot a hovercraft, Daniel Jackson?" Teal'c asks.

"I don't remember," Daniel says cheerfully. "But I'm the one with the best chance of figuring out those ruins on the island, so I have to go. Jack won't let us crash. We'll be back tomorrow. The worst that'll happen is that Jack will be bored."

Teal'c and Carter both look skeptical. "The radios should work," Carter says. "And we'll put together the hydrofoil, just in case we have to go after you. But--"

"No buts, Carter," Jack says. "This is a stupid mission, but it may hold the key to the future of professional hockey, so off we go."

He stows the gear in the hovercraft. "O'Neill seems angry," Jack overhears Teal'c say to Carter as he pushes another pack into the back. "Why is that?"

"Damned if I know," Carter says. Jack isn't surprised. Damned if he knows himself. It's like he's in the dark, but he can see a red cape waving.

Daniel finally comes back from packing whatever last-minute thing he decided he had to bring, and they set off.

* * *

"So, hockey, huh?" Jack asks over the whir of the hovercraft. He's not sure why he's asking. He usually tries to ignore a sore tooth, at least for a while.

"Influences are important," Daniel says. "On people. On cultures. On hockey and beer. You can fight the changes, but...you know, the French have been fighting the Anglicization of their language for years."

"Le MacDonald's," Jack says.

"Le weekend," Daniel says, and Jack wonders if Daniel remembers anything that's at all important. "Le hit parade."

Jack snickers.

"We're all invaders, in a way," Daniel says thoughtfully. "We go through life overrunning other people's lives, invading their communities. Invading their little islands of familiarity and comfort. And every island we visit, we change. And maybe we get changed, as well."

Jack glances at him. The hovercraft is traveling smoothly, and the instruments say they're on course, but he's not feeling all that oriented at the moment. "Did a lot of thinking in the higher plane, did we?"

Daniel shrugs. "I don't remember, really. But I think even ascending must have been a variation on a theme, you know? One day I was here, and then I was there. Like a seed that gets blown across the ocean, and then takes root miles away."

Jack doesn't think so. Daniel didn't ascend because a wind blew. It was a choice. You can't compare ascension to the chain of events that led Daniel to the Stargate project, or to the ones that led to Charlie's death, or to the ones that led to the team finding Daniel again. Daniel can't get away with saying it was an unintended voyage, not when he filled out the immigration forms himself.

The island materializes ahead, and Jack engineers a needlessly rough landing .There are thick trees covering most of the island, and when they get out of the hovercraft Jack sees what the UAV hinted at: the same bright yellow flowers from the mainland, massed alongside some clearly different purplish-blue ones. Carter would be thrilled. He sighs. He wants to stomp his feet and whine, the way Charlie used to do. Sometimes he feels so damned earthbound, even when he's exploring a place at the end of the sky.

They get their gear and make their way to the ruins. It doesn't take that long. Jack tries his radio, but it works only intermittently. Daniel thinks it has something to do with the huge rock outcroppings piled everywhere. Jack doesn't care about reasons; he's edgy and the back of his mind itches. The next thing is going to happen. The next problem. The next disaster. The next death. Daniel has a bad habit of dying, and Jack's tired of it. Tired of endings, tired of chance, tired of choices that veer between bad and worse. He'd like a little control. He should probably have chosen another line of work, not to mention a different sort of man for a best friend.

At the ruins, Daniel's like a kid at the circus. He exclaims over everything, running to look at this and that. Jack positions himself by an outer wall of the ruins with his back to a small, rocky cliff. He can't spare the time to snark over Daniel's enthusiasm. He can't stop scanning the horizon for catastrophe.

He's not surprised when the shaking starts, even when he recognizes it as an earthquake. He's not surprised when the cliff behind him starts to collapse. He's a little surprised when Daniel dives for him, knocking him out of the way of the rock fall, but not at all shocked when a huge chunk of stone slams into Daniel's head, or when the ground bucks and throws Jack in the path of a collapsing wall. Typical, he thinks. Just peachy. All Daniel's fault.

Then he doesn't think about anything for a while.

* * *

When he wakes up it's still beautiful on P3-whatever. The sun is a bright and brilliant orange. The flowers are a bright and brilliant yellow, and a bright and brilliant blue. Jack's blood, which is pouring out of his leg, is a bright and brilliant red. Though there are a lot of flowers, there's even more blood. Jack thinks he might be bleeding to death.

This is one of those times when he's almost sorry Daniel's back. Ascended, Daniel might be able to help him now. Well, maybe not help him--the Ascended, Daniel kept saying, couldn't actually do anything. But still, Ascended Daniel would provide some company, which is more than real, descended Daniel-- who's lying in an unconscious heap, concussed yet again-- is doing at the moment. Jack can see him, but he can't move enough to rouse him. He also can't move enough to try and stop his own bleeding, so basically, he's screwed. Which is certainly a reason to be pissed, though he has other reasons. All of them have to do with Daniel.

Of course, it isn't Daniel's fault that Jack's ended up with a rock pile on his chest, and a leg that's gushing blood like a geyser. But if Daniel _were_ still ascended they wouldn't have been on this damned mission, which promised an archeological treasure trove for their newly-and-dearly  undeparted, but nothing of any strategic value for the SGC. So it keeps coming back to Daniel. Pretty much everything does, as far as Jack's concerned. And he's going to die pissed at Daniel, which is not what he intended. The dying part, anyway.

He sees the darkness gathering at the edges of his vision, and closes his eyes to stave it off. "Damn!" he manages to rasp out, past the weight on his chest.

Surprisingly enough, that's all it takes. He hears a scrabbling off to his side, and a groan, and some mumbling that might be Abydonian. If he could, he'd yell at Daniel to hurry the hell up already. There's way too much blood.

"Jack?" Daniel croaks.

Jack coughs and opens his eyes. He wants to say something sarcastic, but he's tired and doesn't have near enough breath, so he just says "Yeah." It comes out as a hoarse whisper.

Then Daniel's lurching, and then he's crouching by Jack. He's pale. There's blood running down the side of his head, dripping off his ear. When he gets to Jack's side he leans away and pukes, but Jack thinks that's just the concussion.

"Don't worry, Jack," Daniel says when he's gotten himself together. He does a quick check of Jack's injuries, moving the big rocks from Jack's chest, and using his bandana to tie off Jack's bleeding leg. "You're going to be okay."

"I might be bleeding to death," Jack points out. He can breathe a little easier with the rocks off his chest, but some of his ribs are probably broken.

"No, it's not that bad. You'll be okay," Daniel says firmly. He's totally focused on wrapping Jack's leg, only stopping to puke again.

"My last words--" Jack forces out, his voice harsh. "I don't want them to be what a stubborn, wrong-headed asshole you are."

Daniel smiles at this. "Um, probably you do. But we're not at last words yet, so why don't you rest and let me get you stable, and then we can figure a way out of here."

There are no more ways out, Jack thinks. They ran out when Daniel ascended; that he came back only means they're now in debt to the universe. It's not his choice, but he has no more chances left. Teal'c and Carter are too far away, even if the radio works. The ground's unstable. There's no way Daniel can carry him anywhere -- he can barely stand without weaving.  Jack would worry about Daniel's concussion, which must be his fourteenth or fifteenth, but something else is taking precedence. It might be pain. It might be the urge to wring Daniel's neck.

Daniel finishes with Jack's leg and moves on to his arm, which is lying at a funny angle, and then to his ribs. It's all the same to Jack; everything hurts like hell. Daniel acts like he knows what he's doing. It's always been Carter who's acted as team medic, but Daniel apparently picked up a few things along the way. Maybe ascension came with medical training. Daniel's always been a sucker for education.

"There!" Daniel says, sitting back on his heels, and then falling over. He gets up slowly, breathing deeply, and says "Right. Don't do that again." Jack is breathing easier, but not enough so that he can laugh.

Daniel makes him swallow some water and antibiotics, and then shoots him up with a painkiller.

"Don't use it on me!" Jack tells him-- with Daniel's track record, he's going to need painkillers far more than Jack will-- but Daniel, as always, doesn't listen.

"I need to get past the rock fall and try the radio," is all he says. "I'll be right back."

Jack watches him go. Daniel wobbles on hesitant legs before doggedly, shakily, climbing over a small mountain of fallen stone. A shower of debris falls on Daniel as he climbs. Jack sighs. He's an idiot, Daniel; if it were raining, he'd find a reason to stand outside.

Jack closes his eyes, just, he thinks, for a minute. When he wakes up, he keeps his eyes closed, and strange, fantastic shapes flicker on his eyelids. He's shot with fear that there _is_ an afterlife, and he's in it, about to face the consequences of all he's ever done, all he's ever left undone. He sucks in a panicked breath.

"Oh, you're awake. Good," Daniel says.

Damn, Jack thinks, opening his eyes and seeing Daniel there. He _is_ in hell.

"The radio worked. Help's on the way," Daniel says. "We just have to sit tight." He tilts Jack's head up a bit and feeds him some water from a canteen. He's made a small fire, and covered Jack with a thermal blanket. The pain's not too bad now, actually, but he feels marooned, and maybe that's worse. Daniel sits back, closes his eyes, and grimaces. As though he can sense Jack watching, his eyes shoot open. "It's going to be okay," he says with a watery attempt at a smile. "You'll be yelling at me again in no time."

Jack can feel himself fading, and thinks he'd better say what needs to be said, in case it's not just the meds. "I don't forgive you, Daniel," he says, his voice rough and low.

"Don't worry, Jack," he hears Daniel, calm and perfectly clear. "I don't forgive me, either."

* * *

When he wakes up he thinks he's in the infirmary, which is hell in a way, but not in the way that matters. There's pressure rather than pain in his chest and arm. He should be floating, enjoying the magic drugs and the muted beeps of the infirmary, but something's wrong. He needs to know if Teal'c and Carter are okay. And Daniel, he needs to know Daniel's okay. Then he's going to rip him a new one. The drugs always wear away Jack's inhibitions, and now he can feel the dams bursting. He's so damned mad at Daniel.

The muted beeping isn't so muted anymore. Jack looks around and realizes the sound isn't from infirmary equipment, but from Daniel's radio, which is tucked in a pocket on Daniel's inert body. Jack can't move, and Daniel's out for the count. It must be a hell of a concussion. "Daniel!" he manages to choke out, and Daniel finally stirs. "The radio," Jack calls, but Daniel doesn't understand and the radio cuts off. He sits up, blinking, eyes unfocused. Jack hazards a bit of recon. "How's--?"

"I'm fine," Daniel says automatically. "And so are you." He's clearly trying to keep something from Jack.

"And--?" he demands.

"Teal'c and Sam will be here soon," Daniel says. "We just have to--I have to--" He stands, weaving, and looks around vaguely, as though the words he's looking for might be written on one of the crumbling rocks.

Jack tries to sit up, but he can't. It might be the painkillers, it might be the panic. It might be the anger, which is taking a lot of his energy. "Damn it, Daniel," he mutters.

"Ssssh. Do you hear that?"

There's a low rumbling.

"It's going to rain," Daniel says, as though this were somehow his fault. "I have to get you to--" He can't think of the word, and his face screws up with the effort. Jack's suddenly terrified. He's irrationally grateful when Daniel lets go of the search, though in a minute Rock Boy is off on another. Miraculously, this one is successful, and Daniel locates their stash of supplies. With careful, obviously painful movements, Daniel unearths their emergency tent and sets it up under a stand of trees off to the side of the now even-more-ruined ruins. When he's done he staggers back and throws up again. He can't have anything left in his stomach, Jack thinks. He must be coughing up something knocked loose from his brain.

After he's done, Daniel slowly retrieves a tarp, unfolds it on the ground, maneuvers Jack onto it, and drags him into the tent's shelter. Jack keeps croaking at him to stop. What the hell is he doing? He should know better, he's had enough concussions. But Daniel won't stop, and since he won't stop he can't answer. At the moment, the man who speaks twenty-three languages can't walk and talk at the same time. Strictly speaking, he can't even walk.

As soon as Jack's settled it starts to rain, as though someone had been waiting for Daniel to finish. Daniel checks Jack with shaking hands and, seemingly satisfied, begins to crawl out of the tent into the torrential downpour.

"Daniel!" Jacks shouts after him, and Daniel finally answers.

"I have to go out past the rocks to radio Teal'c and Sam," Daniel says. "They'll never see us over here."

He takes off, and Jack can imagine Fraiser's face when he tells her that Daniel got pneumonia because he wouldn't come in out of the rain. It's the first time he's thought that he might see the SGC again. He leans back, and Fraiser's voice is in his ears. "He was trying to facilitate your rescue, Colonel. But self-preservation doesn't seem to be his strong suit, I'll admit."

She's not that angry, Jack can tell, but it doesn't matter. He's angry enough for two people, and anyway, he's the colonel. She can get in line.

* * *

He must have fallen asleep, because he wakes up. He feels stronger, but the meds are starting to wear off. They're dulling his mind, dulling his defenses, but not really dulling his pain. His arm hurts. His leg hurts. His ribs hurt. He can hear the rain pounding on the tent. Daniel's sitting by his side, looking soggy, but better. More together. Less wobbly. Jack is overwhelmingly relieved, and then overwhelmingly angry.

"Go away," Jack says.

"I know you're mad," Daniel says calmly, checking Jack's injuries. He doesn't seem surprised, and he's remembered how to move and talk at the same time. "I--"

"Of course you know, Daniel," Jack says. "Geniuses know everything."

Daniel ignores this. "I'm sorry we went to the planet so I could see the rocks. I'm sorry the rocks fell on you," he recites, like a child in the principal's office. It's compassion talking; he doesn't realize how much trouble he's in.

"Daniel! That's not what I'm mad about," Jack spits out.

"That's not what you're mad about?" Daniel repeats, as though he's just been informed by an unimpeachable source that the world is, after all, flat. "You --you're really mad at me. You're --what don't you forgive me for?"

Jack doesn't answer for a while, but Daniel's patient, and the drugs really do loosen his tongue. They'd be great for interrogations. Who knew? It turns out the trick isn't to inflict pain, but to ease it. "You left," Jack finally says.

"I _left_?" Daniel understood everything at school, so he never learned how to hide confusion.

"You left," Jack says. "You ascended. Chose to go away. Left."

Daniel processes this, visibly, for a minute. Jack is surprised his eyebrows don't fly right off his face. "Jack, I was dying."

"You left," Jack insists.

"But I--"

"You. Left."

"I was--I was _dying_ , Jack." He rubs his head, whether from pain or memory, Jack can't tell. "And I was tired. God, I was so tired."

Jack's not buying it. "It was easy for you, leaving. As though we didn't matter at all. Do you care about anything that's not a ruin?"

Daniel looks at him. "Maybe I don't," he says. "But then, that works out, doesn't it? Everything I've ever had has fallen apart."

Jack shakes his head. That's too easy. Life's not that predictable, and Daniel's not that weak. There had to have been another way. Daniel's a genius, he should have found it. "You _left_ us!"

"I DID NOT!" Mount Daniel has finally erupted. Jack's surprised; he thought that fire burned out long ago " _I_ was the one who was left.  A long time ago. _You_ left _me_. You pulled back. You pulled away, and you took everyone with you. All of you, you left me, and I was right there. I couldn't even follow. I didn't leave! All I did was  go, too."

Jack stares, mouth open.

"And I don't forgive you, either," Daniel whispers. Then he crawls out of the tent and stumbles away.

* * *

The meds wear off entirely a short time later. When Jack can no longer stifle his moans Daniel rushes in, stone-faced. He injects Jack with something, and soon Jack is dreamy and floating. He's swirling on the currents of his own private ocean, which makes sense, because he's an island. He always was, but after Charlie died there were storms and sharks and no one could get near. Except--some current threw Daniel his way.  Jack tried to ignore him, but Daniel was used to being washed ashore in strange lands, and he put up a flag and built a village. That was years ago, and the clash between their cultures is still going on. Daniel changed everything, as surely as Magellan and Galileo, as surely as Yeager and Gagarin, as surely as if he were the first rain to fall in a hundred years.

The next time Jack wakes up he knows why he's mad. It's not that everyone who leaves reminds him of Charlie, of Charlie leaving him behind. It's that everyone who leaves--everyone--is his fault.

He falls back into a restless, drugged sleep. In his dreams, Teal'c comes to see him, and Carter, and Hammond. He doesn't say much to them. He's floating, but he's also keeping watch for an unintentional voyager, for a ship blown off course.  Some islands can only be found by accident, and if you're not watching carefully, you might be stuck forever.

In his dream he doesn't see Daniel even once.

* * *

He wakes again, and this time Daniel's sleeping. Daniel talks in his sleep, a little English, a little French, a little Abydonian. Jack doesn't understand any of it. Even before Daniel ascended they were out of practice communicating. Daniel's first language, Jack thinks, wasn't English or French or Arabic, but the one you use when you don't want to tell anyone anything.

Now they're stuck with each other, on this strange off-world island.  Strange things happen on islands. People who live on islands develop their own language and culture, and sometimes rare neurological conditions. Maybe that explains Daniel. Normal people, after all, don't learn twenty-three languages; their brains can't hold them all. Of course, normal people use language to communicate in the here and now, not to listen to those long dead. But Daniel was in a world of his own, on his own, from a very young age, and maybe he mutated into something unique, like that weird animal Charlie used to show him in that book-- what was it again? Duck-something. A duck-billed platypus. That's Daniel, a species all to himself. Certainly he's not like anyone Jack's ever known. It's no wonder Daniel never felt at home in the world.

Hell, Daniel wasn't even really connected to their world. What connected person would move to another planet without even stopping to pick up some of his stuff or say a few goodbyes, or at least trying to reroute his mail? No, Daniel was on Earth the way a tumbleweed's on the highway, and Catherine came into his life like a strong wind. Daniel got blown to his brave new world on the other side of the universe; like Columbus he made his way by chance and tide. But Daniel set down roots on Abydos, and there's no doubt he landed on fertile soil. Still, the wind or the current brought him back to the SGC, and despite everything, Jack thinks Daniel's roots are deepest there. But Daniel's also changed, after all this time living with alien influences and customs. Hockey.  Jokes.  Guns.  Friendship. Daniel's no longer on his native soil, but then, he's also no longer alone. Jack wonders if those changes make Daniel feel stunted. Just thinking about them makes Jack feel tired.

He closes his eyes. Daniel mutters something that sounds like "Sha're", and something that sounds like "Jack", and something that sounds like crying. Maybe it's the concussion. Maybe it's memory. Maybe it's the pull of the moon.

* * *

Jack wakes up again. He can't tell what time it is, but it feels late. His arm and his ribs and his leg hurt, but something else is bothering him. Daniel's sitting at the other side of the tent, his head bent over his journal. He doesn't look up.

"Maybe I'm...a little," Jack says. "A little bit. About some things."

Daniel looks at him, one eyebrow raised.

"A little sorry," Jack says, waving his good arm.

Daniel sighs, and turns his attention to his journal once again. "Teal'c and Sam will be here soon. You're going to be fine. I'm going to be fine. I don't want to talk about this."

Jack decides he needs a better place to make his stand. He struggles to sit up, waving away Daniel's help. He can tell Daniel's in pain. He is, too. The pain makes some things very clear, or maybe it just brings them closer to the surface. "I'm saying I'm sorry," he says. "That only happens once a--well, I don't think it's ever happened before. So--"

"It's okay, you're off the hook," Daniel says. "There's nothing to forgive."

"There is."

"No, there's not."

"Is."

"Isn't."

This could go on for days, and Jack suddenly wants everything right there, out in the open, like a compound fracture or a staff blast. "There's Charlie," he says.

"Not your fault," Daniel says, not missing a beat. This is an old conversation, though not one they've ever had out loud.

"I wasn't a good father," Jack says. The pain is giving him energy, focus. He can't think why.

"You don't get to decide that," Daniel tells him. "Only Charlie does." He rubs his head, but Jack isn't feeling very sympathetic.

"Well, he's not here to make the call, is he?"

Daniel's voice is calm, but cold. "No. So you get to wonder, but you don't get to decide. And then, eventually, you let it go."

There's a beat, and then a flare of pain that Jack can almost see. He can see a lot of things. "I can't forgive you," Jack blurts out, "because then I might figure out how to forgive myself. And not forgiving myself --that's all I have left of Charlie."

Daniel drops his head and several minutes go by. Jack wonders if he's fallen asleep. Concussions can do that.

"I can forgive you," Daniel says after a little while. "But I can never forgive myself."

"Why?"

"Why what? Why would I forgive you?" Daniel asks.

Jack knows there's no logical explanation for a gift like that, and anyway, that's not what's important. "Why can't you forgive yourself? And for what? So much crap happened to you. What did _you_ ever do?"

Daniel shakes his head.  Jack knows Daniel thinks his failures are obvious, beyond counting. Hell, lately Jack's been the one pointing them out. He waits, and finally Daniel gives up. "Well, for starters, I left," he says with a little smile.

Jack doesn't want to play that game. "What did you do, really ?" he asks again, intent, and Daniel's so taken aback he answers without stopping to think. Jack knows this means he's probably telling the truth.

"I don't know, exactly," Daniel says. "I mean, I know the small things. The things I did. But there has to be something else, something bigger. I know I _should_ know, but--"

" _I_ was mad at _you_ for leaving," Jack says.

Daniel nods.

"You don't get to be mad at _me_ for leaving?"

"You probably had your reasons," Daniel says quietly.

"Charlie. Charlie was my reason," Jack says.

Daniel just looks at him. "Charlie?"

Jack swallows. It must be the painkillers; he can't believe he's saying these things. He's in a frenzy; it's as though he can see a ship from the shore, and his survival depends on getting its attention. "I back away from real emotional connections because I think I'm going to screw up and get left behind, like I did with Charlie."

Daniel pushes up his twisted glasses with a very deliberate, very precise gesture. "Did you hear that from a shrink?"

"Sort of." Jack shrugs. "I heard a shrink talking about it. On Oprah."

"Oh," Daniel says.

"I had a lot of free time after the first Abydos mission," Jack says, in an attempt to explain. He's kind of proud of himself, actually. It takes a lot to surprise Daniel.

"Oh," Daniel says again. Jack can just imagine what Daniel will be writing in his journal when this mission is finally over.

"So--?" Jack says.

"So?"

"You don't blame me for leaving you?"

Daniel looks down and shakes his head.

"DANIEL!"

"I'm--I blame you a little for wanting to."

"Fair enough," Jack says, sinking back onto the packs Daniel's piled up behind him. Waving at a ship so far off is exhausting. "For the record, though, wanting wasn't really a part of it."

"Oh. Too bad."

"Too bad?"

"I thought--well, maybe you could explain it to me. Would explain it to me. Why."

It's not just the painkillers, Jack decides. Daniel, for all his twenty-three languages, can be maddeningly unclear. "Why what?" Jack asks.

"Why you wanted to." Daniel looks up then, which Jack thinks is an amazing act of bravery. Only Daniel. "Is there something about me? Something than makes people want to leave?"

Just then the radio stutters and spurts to life. "Daniel? Daniel, are you there? This is Sam."

Daniel fumbles with the radio, wincing at the noise. He manages to reply, and Sam says they're only a few minutes away. Jack is asleep before they get there.

* * *

He wakes up, and this time he knows he's in the infirmary. There's no mistaking the feeling of being hooked up to wires and tubes, with the happy juice at full blast. Daniel, his head wrapped in bandages, is sitting by Jack's bed, staring at his hands. He hasn't noticed yet that he's no longer alone.

Jack coughs a few times to clear his throat and get Daniel's attention. "You're amazingly annoying. Unbelievably stubborn. You don't know enough to come in out of the rain," he says. "That's why."

Daniel looks up, open-mouthed, and then realization dawns in his eyes. "Oh," he says, and Jack can see the current turning into a riptide as Daniel gets up and heads for the door.

"And you know what the worst thing is?" he calls out. Daniel is polite, he will always answer a question. Sure enough, Daniel stops and, without turning, shakes his head.

"The worst thing is, I'm afraid you're going to leave again."

"Oh," Daniel says, and then, after a moment, he swings around. The tide's coming in, after all. "Oh!"

"So I've been thinking," Jack says. "Season tickets. Hockey. The two of us."

Daniel's face scrunches. "Hockey?"

"Season tickets," Jack affirms."For security. I mean, you wouldn't waste season tickets by haring off somewhere, would you? Those suckers are expensive, and besides, you know I hate going to games by myself."

"Does it have to be hockey?" Daniel asks.

"To start," Jack says. "We can get you up to speed as soon as Fraiser lets me out of here. I've got tapes of all of last year's Stanley Cup games at home."

Daniel thinks for a minute. "Okay, but I'll need to stop at a bookstore first. I'm not sitting through a bunch of hockey games without something to read."

"No need," Jack says. "Some of your books are already at my house."

"I left books there? I don't remember."

Jack doesn't think it's necessary to say that he took the books from Daniel's old apartment. That he put them in his own bookshelves. That he leafed through them from time to time, even though they're boring, and two of them aren't even in English. Species accommodate to each other over time as environments change. Some changes are fate, some acts of faith and hope, some survival.

"Can we get a ham and pineapple pizza?" Daniel asks. Jack's a pepperoni kind of guy, but ham and pineapple, well, that's a small thing to ask, hardly an encroachment at all. Jack thinks he can bend a little. It's not like it means anything, not like anything will change because of it. Besides, it'll just be this once.

 

END

**Author's Note:**

> Note: There's actually a community of totally color-blind people living on an island in the Pacific. If you're interested, Oliver Sacks wrote a book about it, "The Island of the Colour-blind".


End file.
